BOAST

“Hail!  King Hrothgar! I am Hygelac’s thane,

Hygelac’s kinsman.  Many a deed

Of honor and daring I’ve done in my youth…

The best of my people, prudent and brave,

Urged me, King Hrothgar, to seek you out;

They had in remembrance my courage and might.

Many had seen me come safe from the conflict,

Bloody from battle; five foes I bound

Of the giant kindred, and crushed their clan…

And now with Grendel, the fearful fiend,

Single-handed I’ll settle the strife."

“Greetings to Hrothgar. I am Hygelac’s kinsman, one of his hall-troop. When I was younger, I had great triumphs. Then news of Grendel, hard to ignore, reached me at home: sailors brought stories of the plight you suffer in this legendary hall, how it lies deserted, empty and useless once the evening light hides itself under heaven’s dome. So every elder and experienced councilman among my people supported my resolve to come here to you, King Hrothgar, because all knew of my awesome strength. They had seen me boltered in the blood of enemies when I battled and bound five beasts, raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea slaughtered sea-brutes. I have suffered extremes and avenged the Geats (their enemies brought it upon themselves, I devastated them). Now I mean to be a match for Grendel, settle the outcome in single combat. And so, my request, O king of Bright-Danes, dear prince of the Shieldings, friend of the people and their ring of defence, my one request is that you won’t refuse me, who have come this far, the privilege of purifying Herot, with my own men to help me, and nobody else. I have heard moreover that the monster scorns in his reckless way to use weapons; therefore, to heighten Hygleac’s fame and gladden his heart, I hereby renounce sword and shelter of the broad shield, the heavy war-board: hand-to-hand is how it will be, a life-and-death fight with the fiend. Whichever one death fells must deem it a just judgement by God. If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day; he will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall, swoop without fear on that flower of manhood as on others before. Then my face won’t be there to be covered in death: he will carry my away as he goes to ground, gorged and bloodied; he will run gloating with my raw corpse and feed on it alone, in a cruel frenzy, fouling his moor-nest. No need then to lament for long or lay out my body: if the battle takes me, send back this breast-webbing that Weland fashioned and Hrethel gave me, to Lord Hygelac. Fate goes ever as fate must.”